Friday, 6:04 p.m.Location: Ricci Pizza — Dining Room (Pre-War Setup)
By the time I got back to the pizzeria, the place was already half-transformed into a stage. Tables pushed back against the walls. Lights brighter than normal. Chairs spaced like chess pieces. The smell of garlic knots was so thick it felt tactical.
Frankie was in the bathroom mirror rehearsing smiles. Noah was dragging a ladder under every vent like he was auditioning for Handyman TikTok. I came in with my backpack full of cables, routers, and the secret weapon: a pocket-sized Wi-Fi sniffer app I'd pirated from a forum I wasn't technically supposed to know existed.
"Any hits?" I asked, pulling my hoodie over my head and tying on an apron.
Noah shook his head. "One vent had gum. I handled it."
"Hero."
He blushed pink to his ears and carried the ladder toward the back office.
I opened the sniffer app. Numbers scrolled, little blips pulsing. Ricci Pizza's official Wi-Fi. Our burner guest net. My phone. Noah's phone. Frankie's two phones.
There it was. A ghost signal. Masked, bouncing. Someone was trying to piggyback inside our network.
I killed it with a swipe and reset the router, smiling grimly. "Not tonight."
Frankie reappeared from the bathroom, hair twisted into a sleek knot, lips painted sharp. Alpha composure back online, even if her hands were fidgeting with the edge of her blazer.
"Seats?" she asked.
"Front row for her. Middle table. You're behind the counter, full light, oven glow, angle one. I'll be here, laptop open, making it look like we're monitoring comments."
Frankie hesitated. "What if she doesn't come?"
"She will."
"And if she does?"
"Then we make her regret underestimating you."
Her throat bobbed. She nodded once.
The bell above the door jingled and I nearly jumped but it was only Bo with two more trays of knots. He winked at me, set them down, and muttered, "If this turns into a shootout, I'm hiding in the freezer."
"Valid survival plan," I said.
At 6:45, Noah reported all vents clean. Router scrubbed. Tables set. Garlic knots steaming.
At 6:46, my phone buzzed.
Liam: Loop one complete. Black SUV idling two blocks over. Not feds. Not ours.
Me: Rival?
Liam: Maybe. Or curious. Either way, your girl is walking. Gray coat. Coming fast.
My stomach lurched. "She's here."
Frankie froze, her Alpha mask cracking just a hair before snapping back in place.
I gripped her hand for a second. "Remember: you're the prize. Not her. She came to you."
The bell jingled.
Every cell in my body screamed.
She walked in. Frankie's mate. Taller than I expected, sharper too, with the kind of presence that made the air bend. Dominant. Focused. The bond practically vibrated between them, invisible threads snapping tight in the room.
I forced my Beta face into neutral and pasted on my best customer-service smile. My heart was breakdancing against my ribs, but I kept my voice steady.
"Welcome to Ricci Pizza."
Her head turned toward me first, not Frankie. Sharp eyes, gray coat half-unzipped like she'd walked here too fast and didn't notice the cold. She gave me a once-over, dismissive, like I was just background noise. Beta camouflage working, thank God.
Then she saw Frankie.
Everything in the room shifted. The ovens hummed, the lights flickered, even Noah in the corner froze like prey spotting a predator. Frankie's sunglasses were gone, her Alpha aura dialed up; not defensive, not aggressive, just… present.
"Francesca," the woman said. Her voice wasn't loud, but it carried. Smooth, certain, like she'd practiced it in her head a hundred times and hated every repetition.
Frankie's throat worked. Her smile was brittle but brave. "You came."
"I shouldn't have."
"Then why are you here?" Frankie's tone cracked on the last word, barely audible, and I wanted to throw garlic knots at this woman's head until she drowned in marinara.
Her gaze flicked around the shop. Tables, counters, cameras; then locked back on Frankie. "Because I needed to see you. And… because I saw your live."
There. The bond in action. Watching her watch Frankie. Wanting what she didn't want to admit.
Frankie squared her shoulders, Alpha steel sliding into place. "You said you wouldn't raise a child that isn't yours. You made me feel like garbage for even carrying it."
The woman flinched, only a flicker, but Frankie saw it. We all did.
"I panicked," she said finally. "I wasn't; ready."
"That's not good enough," Frankie snapped, the mask cracking. Tears glittered in her eyes, furious. "You don't get to decide my worth like that. You don't get to break me, disappear, then stroll in here and expect…" Her voice choked. "…expect me to beg."
Silence. The ovens ticked, a timer beeped. My own fists clenched under the counter, nails biting my palms.
"Then don't beg," the woman said softly. "Just let me… try again."
Frankie let out a laugh, sharp and bitter, like glass breaking. "Try again? Like this is some bad first date? You think a DM saying 'I saw' makes it okay?"
The woman didn't answer. Her jaw tightened.
Frankie's tears slid, hot and angry. "I wanted this baby. I wanted you. And you made me feel like I was already a failure."
The woman's eyes flicked to me, maybe to gauge if I was recording. I met her stare with the deadpan of a girl who'd hit a biker with a helmet and lived to tell the tale. "If you're going to hurt her again," I said flatly, "don't waste my family's oxygen."
Her gaze sharpened but she didn't deny it.
Frankie's voice dropped, dangerous now. "You're here because you're jealous. Because you saw Diego Perez lean too close on TikTok and it drove you insane. Admit it."
The bond pulsed like a heartbeat, wrapping the air tight around us.
Her mate's eyes narrowed, voice low, almost a growl. "That man. Diego Perez, you let him put his hands on you? You have no idea what he is. He's dangerous. A smuggler, a liar, a snake with a smile. You should stay as far away from him as you can, Frankie."
My vision went red. Excuse me?
You don't just march into our pizza shop, after ghosting my sister and wrecking her, and start bad-mouthing Diego like you've got a Yelp account for Ricci family associates. Diego was chaos, yes. Reckless, yes. He'd probably flirted with a border guard once to get a truck through. But he was ours.
I bit my tongue hard enough to taste iron, fists curling under the counter. Not my fight. Frankie's fight.
Frankie's tears dried instantly, Alpha fire taking their place. She straightened, blazer sharp, chin lifted like she was on trial and refusing to plead.
"Diego Perez is family," she said, each word clipped and final. "And in this family, we don't slander family. You don't get to walk in here and trash someone who's bled for us, protected us, stood beside us—even when you didn't."
The woman flinched like Frankie had struck her. The bond thrummed harder, angry and raw.
I exhaled slowly, knuckles white, the taste of blood on my tongue, and thought:
Welcome to Ricci Pizza. Order respect or get out.